This War We're Fighting
by MarInk1485
Summary: Kurt notices Sebastian at the Lima Bean once again. Does he live here or something? Turns out, he kind of does since Sebastian's father kicked him out into the streets after finding out he was gay, and withdrew the tuition from Dalton. TW: homophobia. WIP. AU after 3x17 "Dance with Somebody".
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: 1) I don't own 'Glee' and don't get any money for writing this. No copyright infringement intended.

2) The title is from the song 'Courtesy Call' by 'Thousand Foot Krutch'. If you want some sountrack to the story you can listen to it on Youtube here: watch?v=CRPIInfuSCM

3) Written for a GAM prompt.

* * *

Kurt wraps his fingers around his cup of non-fat mocha, revelling in the warmth against his skin. A perfect companion to an English paper is a big cup of coffee, that's why Kurt likes it so much in the Lima Bean. He's never really told anyone, but it feels like a French movie or a book about the twenties when he sits there with his papers and books strewn across the table with a cup of coffee next to his elbow. It's kind of romantic, even if he's not writing a novel or sonnets but just doing his homework. Well, there's nothing in the world that would be harmed by a small additional bit of romance, and if there is, it's not homework, that's for sure.

Although, to find a table is quite hard: Kurt's not the only one who like spending time in the Lima Bean in the afternoon. He looks through the crowded room, and there's just one free chair as far as he can see. And opposite to this chair there's Sebastian Smythe of all people, looking at his phone intently and not paying attention to anything else whatsoever.

Kurt briefly contemplates coming over and sitting there, but tosses this thought away immediately as ridiculous. He doesn't have biting anyone's head off planned for today, and that's what's bound to happen if he and Sebastian spend more than two minutes in each other's proximity. He sighs, still looking at Sebastian.

They are barely three meters apart. It's a distance short enough for Kurt to notice the dark circles under Sebastian's eyes, the creases on his Dalton tie and the traces of sweat and dirt on the collar of his white shirt. Apparently, something's off in Sebastian's life, and at this thought Kurt feels his lips curl into a tiny satisfied smirk. He knows it's petty and rather uncool to enjoy other people's distress, but it's Sebastian, after all, it's not 'people', it's 'an overgrown criminal meerkat', and do we apply the rules of decency to anthropomorphic criminal meerkats? Probably not.

He's already decided to stop staring and just go drink his coffee in the street before heading home with the homework, when Sebastian looks up as if having felt Kurt looking. Kurt waits for Sebastian to raise his eyebrows, smirk and say something offensive because that's what Sebastian does so enthusiastically as if he gets paid for it, but Sebastian just holds their gazes locked for a couple of seconds, not a shadow of amusement or sneer in his expression, and then breaks the eye contact to shove his phone into his jacket pocket hastily.

That's a whole new level of wrong, and Kurt feels his own smirk fading. Oh God, has someone in Sebastian's family died, or what? Has Sebastian gotten involved into drug-dealing – Kurt wouldn't put pretty much anything past Sebastian – and had to run away from his 'business partners' and the police at the same time? Kurt's thoughts buzz like anxious bees, despite the fact that whatever disaster Sebastian's got himself into it's none of Kurt's business. It's not like they don't hate each other.

He sighs once again. Sebastian has already spoiled his day by merely existing, so what's the difference?

"Ladyboy," Sebastian says, and it sounds kind of sharp instead of the usual condescending. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"Hi, Sebastian," Kurt says, sitting down without invitation. "You look like shit, pardon my French. Did Dalton's school board finally decide to transfer you to the juvie? Well, better late than never."

"Charming as ever, aren't you?" Sebastian smiles tightly. "Why are you alone here of all places? Did your delicious piece of a boyfriend finally find out that you're a ladyboy indeed, freak out and dump you?"

Kurt frowns. Part of him wants to shower Sebastian with his still hot coffee, but another part doesn't like the idea of wasting the heavenly liquid. Besides, all of Kurt is slightly confused by the insult: it's as bizarrely off as the rest of Sebastian, his tight voice and smile, his clothes – Kurt doesn't remember the guy having an ounce of taste, but he also doesn't remember him looking like he's spent a couple of days in the Dumpster, – his tense face and hollow eyes.

He really does look like shit.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Kurt asks.

There's brief surprise on Sebastian's face, and then just the tension again.

"Yes, I am, unlike some people here. Would you be so kind as to free the chair for my oncoming date?"

"You're a horrible, hoooorrible liar," Kurt chuckles into his cup, not really feeling cheerful. "Even someone as dumb and rude as you wouldn't come to a date in a jacket which reeks of rotten bananas. And don't you know that normal people wash their necks before a date?"

In fact, Sebastian's jacket does reek of rotten bananas. Kurt's inclined to consider a dark stain on the jacket's sleeve the trace of that banana which was unfortunate enough to run into Sebastian Smythe.

Sebastian stands up so abruptly that his chair falls on the floor with rattling noise.

"It has been very uninteresting to talk to you," he says, tight-lipped, and narrow-eyed, and so tense that Kurt's half-waiting for him to snap like an overstretched rubber band. "I sincerely wish that you choke on your coffee and die."

These words sound like Sebastian means them.

Sebastian turns to walk away, and Kurt's instincts kick in faster than he can think it through – he reaches across the table and grabs Sebastian's wrist.

Sebastian's skin is cold and harsh to touch as if he's spend several hours outside, in the cold and under the wind, without gloves. Which is stupid 'cause it's late spring, and it's only ever cold at night when all people prefer to stay inside buildings, whether their houses or nightclubs or anywhere else.

Sebastian flinches from the touch and tries to pull his hand free. It's not that easy, though, without starting an unseemly fight in the middle of the Lima Bean, and he settles for hissing:

"Let me go, gayface!"

"What happened?" Kurt asks.

No forthcoming insults this time. He just wants to know what the hell happened. He's a kind and sympathetic person, isn't he? That's why he's the good guy, and Sebastian's the bad guy – because Kurt knows what sympathy and humanity is.

"Nothing happened, apart from the sad fact than you still waste oxygen as if you're supposed to," Sebastian spits. "Wanna do me a favour? Go back to whatever girly hell you came from."

Kurt still holds onto Sebastian's wrist, feeling the cold skin grow warmer under his own; Sebastian's still standing, half-turned away, and it must look really ridiculous from an outsider's point of view. Maybe it is ridiculous, but Kurt knows for sure that the moment he lets Sebastian go, the latter will flee the Lima Bean.

Just this morning Kurt would love the idea of this. But not right now, when there's a knot in his stomach caused by Sebastian's haunted, wild eyes and feverish pulse under Kurt's fingers.

"Somehow," he says slowly, "I don't think it'd resolve any of your problems."

"What do you know of my problems anyway?" Sebastian snaps.

Kurt is kind and sympathetic, that is undoubtedly true. But he's no saint.

"Sit down!" he snaps in return and pulls Sebastian's hand with force, making him fall gracelessly back onto his chair. "Drink," he orders, pushing his own pretty much untouched cup to Sebastian across the table. "Slowly."

Sebastian sits there, looking at Kurt, mute and unmoving, and it unnerves Kurt quite a lot. But then Sebastian reaches for the cup cautiously as if expecting Kurt to take it back any moment and lifts it to his lips.

Kurt watches him take the first sip and lick his lips for invisible remaining drops; and then Sebastian downs the cup greedily in a few gulps, with his eyes closed and his finders clutching at the cup so strongly that his knuckles whiten.

If Kurt didn't know already that something was seriously wrong, he'd know now, when Sebastian puts the cup on the table and looks at Kurt again, and Sebastian's eyes shine suspiciously.

God, is he going to cry? Kurt isn't sure he can handle that.

"Your coffee totally sucks," Sebastian says after a pause, his voice sounding rusty and not mocking at all. "It was disgusting."

"You're welcome," Kurt says. "Will you tell me now what happened?"

Sebastian winces like it was a blow, not a question.

"Surprising as it might be, there are things under the sun that are no business of yours," he says. 'Ladyface', or 'ladyboy', or something else along those lines hangs in the air, left unsaid for some reason.

Kurt bites his lower lip absent-mindedly, thinking of what to do to make Sebastian talk. He has to give credit to the bastard for choosing to keep silent exactly when Kurt actually wants to hear something from him.

"Let's strike a deal," Kurt says. "I buy you a cup of coffee to your obnoxious taste and a muffin, and you tell me what happened."

Sebastian stares at Kurt like there's suddenly an extra head on Kurt's shoulders.

"Well?" Kurt prompts.

"Do I get to choose the muffin too?" Sebastian asks with a snort.

"Sure," Kurt says.

"Deal then," Sebastian says incredulously.

Kurt gets up and walks over to the counter to order what he promised.

"Chocolate muffin, if you please! And a double espresso with whipped cream, hazelnut syrup, cinnamon and sugary sprinkles!" Sebastian shouts to Kurt's back.

"Seriously?" Kurt mutters under his breath. "Who the hell is more of a girl here, huh?"

He orders as asked, and when he's back at the table, Sebastian is still there, although he looks nervous and fidgety like he's not really comfortable to be where he is. Well, that makes two of them.

Kurt puts the coffee and the muffin in front of Sebastian, feeling like he's trapped inside of some kind of Mad Tea Party with coffee instead of tea, and sits down.

He watches Sebastian literally devouring the muffin, not so messily as Finn devours pizza or potato chips, but very quickly and efficiently. It looks like Sebastian is starving this afternoon, and Kurt doesn't like the idea of a horror that must have happened to make someone as full of himself as Sebastian to neglect his basic needs.

Maybe that's why he wanted whipped cream and sugary sprinkles in his coffee – because he is hungry, and whipped cream contains a hell of a lot of calories. But why on earth couldn't Sebastian just order something on his own or go home and eat there?

"Well?" Kurt says, when Sebastian reluctantly puts his empty cup on the table.

"It was my dog's funeral last week," Sebastian says. "Very, very tragic. I've been grieving inconsolably since then."

Kurt snorts, unable to resist.

"Did you really think I'd buy this crappiest of all the crappy excuses?"

"Was worth a try," Sebastian smirks, but this sign of the old cocky Sebastian disappears just as soon as it appears. "Listen, I gotta go. Would love to stay and have a lady chat with you, but places to be, people to see…"

"Again, did you really?" Kurt repeats. It's not fair that Sebastian tries to pull off such bullshit after Kurt has upheld his side of the deal. But then again, does Sebastian even know what 'fair' means?

Sebastian sighs. All the fight is suddenly drawn out of him. He hunches in his chair, crossing his arms on his chest in a defensive gesture.

"Hummel," he says. "Why the hell do you want to know?"

Kurt shrugs. He honestly doesn't know. He can't even say to himself that it's because he's a nice person, because even nice people don't buy their mortal enemies chocolate muffins – or any kinds of muffins, to think of it. There are some boundaries to politeness and kindness, and Kurt feels like he's already overstepped them.

"Well," Sebastian says quietly. "If you want to rub it in my face how miserable I am after hearing the story, then, I figure, I owe you that much for two cups of coffee, a muffin and your endlessly amusing idiocy."

"Spill, Smythe." Kurt tilts his head to the side.

Sebastian takes the empty cup in his hands and studies the picture on the side of the cup with what looks like genuine interest.

"My father came to visit me at Dalton on Thursday, and he showed up earlier than expected," he says. "He walked in on me with another boy."

He outlines the rims of the cup with the tips of his fingers. Kurt waits, a tad nauseous from the presentiment of something truly, truly bad.

"He disowned me right there and then, 'cause, apparently, Smythes can't be fags, therefore fags can't be Smythes, that kind of logic. He also withdrew the tuition fee from Dalton immediately, forbade me to come home ever again and left."

Sebastian is squeezing the cup very tightly now, dropping the pretence of being interested in the picture or anything else.

"I had to leave Dalton before the curfew: with my tuition unpaid, I had no rights to be on the grounds. And I, well, I have nowhere to go to. It's warm in here, though, and they don't pay attention to someone who doesn't order anything if it's as crowded as today."

He stops talking and inhales deeply, his eyes unblinking and unseeing and shiny again.

"Oh God," whispers Kurt. "God, Sebastian, I had no idea…"

You were always out, he wants to say. Everyone knew, you were hitting on everything that moves and has a dick, well, except for me. You were so at ease with yourself…

He stops himself before he can say any of this. Evidently, even if Sebastian himself had no problem accepting his sexuality, his family did.

"What about your mum?" Kurt asks, still whispering. He doesn't want to think that Sebastian's mother took the father's side.

"I'd ask her opinion on the matter if I was a medium or something." One corner of Sebastian's lips twitches, and Kurt doesn't like the thought of both a possible smirk and possible tears. "She died when I was, like, a couple of hours old."

"I'm sorry," Kurt says. "For everything, for both of your parents…"

"Now you know," Sebastian interrupts. "And we can both be on our merry ways…"

"Wait! You said you don't have anywhere to go. Do you have any money? Anything?"

"I had some things but I got mugged Thursday night." That corner twitches again. "I'm thinking of selling my phone – it fell out of my pocket, I found it under a bench when they took everything else and left. Do you want to buy a new phone, Hummel? It's working alright, although the screen is kind of cracked."

Thursday night. It's Saturday afternoon now. A shiver of self-disgust runs down Kurt's spine when he remembers how smug and glad he was to see Sebastian looking like a wreck fifteen minutes ago.

"No," he says. "No, I don't want a phone. But you, um, you can stay at my place. You know. At least for a night. My dad won't mind if I explain."

Sebastian's face is frozen in some expression that Kurt can't really define. He looks like he's about to either run or slap Kurt and the only thing stopping him is the matter of choice.

Kurt decides not to wait until Sebastian comes to the obvious conclusion that he can do both if he chooses the right order of things, and says, hearing himself talk quicker and higher with every word:

"I mean it, you know. You can have dinner with us and sleep on the couch, and it's not like it's a hardship, I mean, if you aren't going to kill us in our sleep, then it'd definitely be a hardship and a reckless decision, but you'll do something stupid or die, which is stupid too, to be honest, if you stay outside for much longer, and your body will stink all over the town, and I'm sure you'll become a ghost and will start haunting us just because you're a jackass like that, and, well, I don't want all that, do I?"

He is short of breath and he stops to regain some semblance of dignity. Sebastian is staring at Kurt with his mouth slightly open as though he wanted to say something and opened it, and then thought better than that and forgot to close his mouth again. His face looks decidedly undecipherable.

"I guess, you don't," Sebastian says slowly. "Want me to haunt your sorry girly ass, that is."

"Absolutely," Kurt says, oddly relieved to hear a familiar insult after everything they've just told each other.

"It would be unbearably boring, you know," Sebastian says, and he looks right now every bit the arrogant selfish bastard despite his quite pathetic state. "Haunting you and you crazy friends for all eternity – it sounds like a punishment. So…"

"So?"

"So yeah. I'll do you a favour, Hummel, and I'll crash at your house for the night."

Sebastian doesn't look like he's the one doing the favour, though. Kurt knows that they both know that it's very much more than Sebastian himself would have done for Kurt, had the latter happened to find himself in a similar situation. Also, it's more than anyone else Sebastian knows would do for him.

Well, there's that good guy and bad guy division. Good guys have a good reputation to uphold, you know, and an annoying ghost at one's heels, saying all kinds of offensive and dirty things day and night long, isn't exactly an example of a good PR-step, honestly.

"Okay then," Kurt says. "Let's go. I need to do my homework at some point today, and you need to wash that neck of yours, seriously."

They get up, not looking at each other, and walk out of the Lima Bean shoulder to shoulder, keeping at all times enough distance between them not to touch accidentally.

Oh Lord, Kurt thinks feebly, it's really happening. Sebastian fucking Smythe is about to spend a night under my roof.

If Kurt believed in God, he'd be sure that said almighty entity is currently laughing its ass off, looking down at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **1) Lots of hugs and gratitude for clover-inK90 for being an awesome beta! Any mistakes left in the text are purely my fault.

2) I don't own 'Glee' and don't get any money for writing this. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

They don't exactly talk while Kurt drives them both home. Well, his home, not Sebastian's, but considering the lack of such in Sebastian's life, the latter can as well call it home too. Even if just for the night.

Kurt throws a sideways glance at Sebastian, trying not to think of what to do tomorrow – just throw him out into the streets? Ask his own father call Sebastian's homophobic douchebag of a father and talk sense into him? That probably won't help. And anyway, Kurt knows that even if people are able to change, they don't do it overnight, and tomorrow Sebastian, most likely, will still have nowhere to go.

Kurt has never been dumb or anything, if his straight As at school are any indication, but right now it really hurts to think that much. It's a human being (even if a very meerkat-shaped one) he's thinking about, not an equation. He can dispose of an equation easily: he can solve it and then he can forget about it and do something else. The equation wouldn't really care what his choice was. But Sebastian is living and breathing, and, if Kurt's own fears throughout the middle school before coming out to his dad could be taken as an example, Sebastian is also going through his very own personal hell right now.

He doesn't ask Sebastian about it, though. They are not friends, and he certainly isn't Sebastian's therapist.

Sebastian is looking at the streets they are passing, but his absent eyes betray that he isn't really here. He doesn't say anything and doesn't move apart from putting his hand on his stomach at one point. That muffin must be misbehaving, Kurt guesses. He doesn't say anything, though.

Sebastian stays that way for a while, and Kurt keeps glancing at him until he can't take anymore of that. He turns into the street that doesn't lead directly to his house and pulls over. Sebastian stiffens visibly but doesn't say anything.

"I think your stomach aches," Kurt says, half-questioningly. He doesn't add 'How long have you been going without food before that muffin?', although it's a temptation. "Wait for a minute, I'll get you something for that. I'm not sure what we have at home."

He gestures toward the pharmacy which is across the street and gets out of the car, trying not to think that Sebastian can take off with it – or take off without it, for that matter. He'd better be quick, he thinks, if he wants to buy pills and be able to give to the one who needs them.

When Kurt is back with packages of acetaminophen and ibuprofen (not knowing which works better for Sebastian, Kurt takes both) and a bottle of mineral water, Sebastian is standing outside the car, one hand still on his stomach and the other in his pants pocket. He watches Kurt approaching with a wariness that looked definitely foreign on Sebastian's face.

"Why are you doing it, Hummel?" he asks sharply as Kurt stretches his hand with the pills out to Sebastian. "You know I can't pay you. Not for the pills, not for staying at your place."

"Well," Kurt says, feeling at a loss. He'd explain to Sebastian why if he knew it himself.

"It's a good thing I'm not a hotel owner or something, then."

"I've got exactly nothing to offer you. Are you sure we're on the same page here?" Sebastian insists, looking like he's about to break and start yelling at Kurt. Kurt wonders briefly, why would Sebastian do that.

"Yeah," Kurt is rolling his eyes. It's not a good thing to feel, probably, but it's really nice to have the upper hand in a conversation with Sebastian. "We totally are. Now take the pills and get back in the car."

Sebastian is still standing there, looking at Kurt.

"If you do that right now, I'll bake chocolate chip cookies for dessert tonight," Kurt offers. He's not exactly sure how they got stuck in this food-bribing mode which is supposed to be reserved for compromises between parents and five-year-olds (or, well, with Finn, as far as Kurt's experience goes), but he'll take whatever works.

Sebastian snorts, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

"Now I'm imagining you in an apron. And this picture is really, really scary, trust me on that."

"They say it's good to face your worst fears," Kurt says with his poker-face on and opens the car door to slip into his seat behind the wheel. "Come on."

Sebastian, unexpectedly, does as he's told, and doesn't even need further persuasion to swallow two pills at once and drink half the bottle of water.

* * *

Kurt gets out of the car first and opens the door for Sebastian, detumined to see to it that Sebastian doesn't start talking about how he can't stay at Kurt's house because he can't pay for it again. All it takes is a gesture indicating that Kurt's about to pull Sebastian out and to the front door by his hand to make him flinch away from the forthcoming touch and move.

When Kurt shuts the door of the house between them, he feels tired already. And he still has a dinner to make and homework to do. And a conversation with his father. Damn. Kurt's kind of glad that Dad and Carole are in DC this week and aren't due back until tomorrow night, so the conversation will have to be on the phone.

Well, if it's for one night, then Kurt doesn't have to tell Dad anything 'cause Sebastian will be gone before they get back. He shoves the thought away, to some far corner of his mind, and turns to Sebastian who's standing here, in the hall, all tight-lipped and uncomfortable.

"Let's go," Kurt says.

"This is the living-room," he says, reaching the room in question. "You'll be sleeping here. My room's in the basement, through there." He leads Sebastian to the stairs.

He was offered to have his own room upstairs when they moved into this house, but, frankly, the basement was bigger, and Kurt considers himself a creature of habit, so he chose the downstairs.

"I've got my own bathroom here. Do you, um, do you wanna take a shower?" he asks and adds hurriedly before Sebastian has a chance to answer: "Here, take a towel."

Kurt fishes a fresh towel from his chest of drawers and tosses it over his shoulder in Sebastian's general direction. Judging by the sound, the latter caught it just fine.

"Take your time, I'll go call my father and get your some clean clothes – you probably won't fit in mine, I'll see if Finn has something suitable. And if you touch my specially formulated 'Lush' shampoo and conditioner, I'll kill you myself on the spot," he adds after a moment of consideration and accompanies his words with a meaningful look. "Use something else."

Sebastian's lips twitch like he's about to smile, but he doesn't. He just nods instead and disappears in the bathroom, closing the door after himself tightly.

Kurt lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Then he goes upstairs to Finn's room. Sebastian is smaller than Finn, but it's more comfortable to wear something too big than something too small, Kurt supposes. Finn's still out, at some football game or other with Puck and Mike, and Kurt is free to scan his wardrobe. He finds soft grey sweatpants, fresh from laundry, and a black T-shirt which says 'I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person' – Kurt gave it to Finn once as a birthday present but, even though he was grateful, Finn didn't look like he actually liked the bitchy line, and he didn't wear it once. Well, at least Sebastian will surely appreciate it.

With the clothes over his arm, he retreats to the living room and braces himself before dialling his dad.

"Hey, kiddo!" says Dad. He sounds lively and cheerful, so, apparently, things in DC are going well. "What's up? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine," Kurt mutters. "Listen, I…"

He can feel his dad sobering up at the other end of the line.

"Somethin' happened? Kurt? Are you and Finn in trouble?"

"We're okay," Kurt reassures hastily. "It's not us. I met, well, I met Sebastian today."

"Sebastian?"

"Sebastian Smythe. The one who threw that slushie at Blaine, remember?"

"Did he do anything to you?" There's a serious threat in Dad's voice. Oh, Jesus.

"No, no, nothing at all. In fact, I – I kinda invited him to stay at our house for a while."

"You did what, kiddo?" Dad asks incredulously.

Kurt bites his lip.

"I met him and we talked. Turns out, his father found out earlier this week that he's gay, disowned him, and kicked him out. He has nowhere to go, Dad, no one to turn to, he's got no money, nothing. I couldn't just leave him to his own devices in the street, even if I still don't really like him."

"Bastard," Dad growls. "The whole family of them are bastards."

"I guess," Kurt laughs shortly. "And some of them are bigger bastards than the others."

They don't speak for a few seconds, Kurt letting his dad digest the information.

"Kurt, are you sure what you did was the right thing? He isn't gonna hurt you?"

"No," Kurt says with more confidence than he's actually feeling. "No, he isn't. He's exhausted, and hungry, and on edge, and he's got no one. I couldn't not help him."

Dad is silent, and Kurt adds, almost pleadingly:

"He's just a kid, Dad. Like me; he's my age. And if you weren't as awesome as you are, I could easily end up just like him."

"You're too kind for your own good, Kurt," Dad says grudgingly, and Kurt pumps the air in a gesture of victory. "I guess I gotta trust that you know what you're doing. I'll talk to him myself tomorrow."

"Yeah, of course," Kurt smiles. "Thank you, Dad. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, kiddo. You're welcome."

They spend almost a half an hour more on the phone, catching up – Dad tells him Carole bought a new dress she's itching to show Kurt, and Kurt tells Dad that Finn tried to make popcorn in the microwave yesterday, and they had to clean the whole kitchen afterwards, not to mention the microwave (Finn has a superpower to turn any given place into an absolute mess within mere seconds, Kurt is sure), and he's rewarded by the sound of his dad's deep warm laughter. By the time they say goodbye to each other and hang up, Kurt's more or less relaxed and happy, and even ready to face Sebastian once again.

Sebastian, for his part, clearly isn't ready to face Kurt. Or if he is, he can't because he's fast asleep on Kurt's bed, taking up barely a quarter of the available space.

He's on the edge of the bed, over the covers, with only the wet towel wrapped around his waist for protection from the quite chilly air in the basement. Kurt figures Sebastian wasn't planning to fall asleep where he wasn't supposed to. More likely, he sat down waiting for Kurt to get back, and just drifted off because of tiredness.

Kurt studies Sebastian attentively, using the opportunity to do so without distraction. Sleeping Sebastian is still an unhappy Sebastian: he's frowning, and he has one hand in his hair like he's defending his head from something. Say, like a blow.

Now that Sebastian's cleaned up the dark circles under his eyes are painfully obvious. And there are several nasty-looking bruises, scattered across his ribs and shoulders. His skin is covered with goose bumps, and he smells suspiciously like Kurt's beloved 'Lush' shampoo – but Kurt generously decides to let it slide (just this once).

Kurt puts the clothes on the bed next to Sebastian adding to the pile a pair of his own socks and briefs. It's weird to think of Sebastian wearing Kurt's underwear, somehow even weirder than everything else, but it's really not much, considering that he has lent Sebastian his own bed (not that he planned on lending it, exactly, but he doesn't really mind).

He finds a spare blanket in the closet and covers Sebastian with it gently, so as not to wake him. However much of a bastard, he deserves a chance to have some rest, maybe the first chance of it he's had since Thursday.

On the way to the kitchen Kurt texts Finn:

_Buy some arnica at the pharmacy when you're coming back. And for god's sake, don't buy pizza, I'm cooking tonight._

There's something positively unhealthy in Finn's boundless love towards junk food, however self-evident that may sound. Kurt sometimes feels like the last frontier of healthy eating in this family, honestly.

He puts his apron on and starts chopping vegetables.

* * *

By the time Finn comes home, flushed and excited over the anticipation of a dinner cooked by Kurt, the chocolate chip cookies are almost ready, and Kurt is crouching in front of the oven and poking them with a skewer to see if their consistency is just what he wants it to be.

"Cookies!" declares Finn, happy.

"Bingo, dear brother." Kurt snorts fondly and straightens up, tugging the baking tray out cautiously. "And no, dinner first, cookies after."

"Not cool, dude," complains Finn, not sounding too upset. Most probably, Kurt muses, he plans on stealing a cookie or two when Kurt looks the other way.

To maintain the order of things, Kurt puts all the cookies into a bowl and sets it on the windowsill, so that he's between Finn and the chocolate-chip-goodness.

"Why cookies?" frustrated Finn asks, flopping onto a chair at the half-served table. "Why three plates? Are we waiting for somebody? Did you invite Blaine? Can I invite Rachel too? She won't even eat the cookies, she says she's on a diet, but you can feed her some vegetables."

"Cookies are here because I promised I'd make them," Kurt deflects, totally aware that, as explanations go, this one is awfully lame. "And, well, we aren't waiting for anyone, but there's a guest in our house. And it's not Blaine, Finn, you know he's still at his cousin's wedding three thousand miles from here."

"Guest? What guest?"

Before Kurt can think of a good way to explain, there's a quiet reply from the door:

"I guess that would be me."

Kurt braces himself mentally when Finn turns his head to Sebastian and recognizes him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Finn is getting up in a slow, threatening way, and Kurt suddenly thinks that he has never really seen Finn in a protective brother mode, not with something truly serious involved. Finn must be thinking Sebastian's gonna hurt Kurt, like Dad, to make his quite everyday movement of getting to his feet look so creepily dangerous.

"He's invited to stay with us." Kurt rests his hand on Finn's shoulder and feels his brother's tense muscles relax under the soothing touch.

"Who was crazy enough to invite him?" asks Finn, disbelieving.

"I was," Kurt says, giving Finn the glare of doom. "Sebastian is staying. He's not here to maim or kill any of us. I think."

"What is he here for, then?"

Kurt looks at Sebastian, hesitant. He is sure telling Finn the truth will defuse the situation – there's quite no one as compassionate and gentle as Finn once you've managed to dig to the bottom of his heart, and gay-bashing issues certainly own a vast space there since the F-word incident when Dad told Finn off and threw him out (is there another seventeen-year-old jock who used to throw pee balloons at gay people but after a stern talking-to sincerely understood how wrong he was? Kurt doesn't think so). But, although he's already told Dad, it still feels wrong to just spill Sebastian's story as if it's his own to share.

He looks at Sebastian, rising his eyebrows slightly. Sebastian tightens his lips into a thin line and barely nods – Kurt supposes it's as much of permission as he's going to get. Sebastian looks kind of defeated; deflated like a balloon (without pee, that is). For all he's slept for three hours straight, he looks even more tired than before. Pillow creases on his left cheek remind Kurt of scars; Finn's sweatpants look way too big on him even if the T-shirt hugs his body quite snugly. With these pants hanging low on his hips and his hair a sleepy mess, he looks like… well, like exactly what he is. A lost and bitter homeless boy.

"Sebastian's father found out that Sebastian's gay," says Kurt, snapping back to the reality where Finn is about to unleash onto Sebastian his holy brotherly wrath, and Sebastian leans on the door-post in a rather fake casual gesture. "He… he didn't like it. Sebastian has nowhere to go now. He's staying with us for a while. I called Dad, he's fine with the idea."

Sebastian's eyebrows move up at this statement, and his eyes go kind of funny wide as if he didn't really think Kurt would tell his father about their little arrangement. Or that said father would be okay with having him in his house.

"Oh," says Finn, some remorse already bleeding into his voice. "I… I didn't know." He looks up at Sebastian and adds honestly: "That sucks, dude. 'm sorry."

"Not your fault." Sebastian's lips twitch again, and Kurt actually wants to see a smile, but there's still none.

"Sit down, both of you," Kurt suggests. "Sebastian, you aren't allergic to fish, tomatoes and aubergines, are you? To, um, anything?"

"Nope." Sebastian sits down, hiding his hands in the pockets of the sweatpants. "I can eat anything as long as it's generally eatable, Hummel."

While Kurt gets on with the last-minute dinner things, Finn looks at Sebastian with genuine sympathy.

"What are you gonna do now?" he asks.

Sebastian winces at the question, although Kurt doesn't know if it was too painful to think over or just too unexpected.

"I thought having a quiet dinner would be nice," he says, his intonation a tad less dismissive than his words.

Finn doesn't prod him further, just keeps throwing Bambi-like, sympathetic, supportive glances in his direction until Kurt sits down between the two of them.

Sebastian is looking only at his plate as he starts eating, his eyelashes fluttering closer to the cheek. I'll get you to talk, Kurt thinks with some new kind of steely determination. You can't shake me off as easily as you did with Finn.

"Dude, how can you make this healthy crap so good?" Finn collects a large portion of sour sauce with a piece of bread and pushes the whole piece into his mouth. Which doesn't stop him from talking, though. "Can you cook it every day?"

"No, Finn," Kurt says, preening a bit under the praise. "So you'd better appreciate it while you can."

Kurt is sure he's just seen a corner of Sebastian's lips tilting. But he can't really be sure, what with the eating thing when a person's mouth is supposed to be moving constantly.

He'll be more attentive next time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** 1) I don't own 'Glee' and don't get any money for writing this. No copyright infringement intended.

2) Reviews are appreciated. Saying it just in case :)

* * *

After a rather strained meal filled with silence and deliberate not looking at each other, Kurt and Finn settle into their usual routine of washing the dishes – Kurt washes, and Finn dries. They do it every time they have a meal together when their parents are out of Lima; it feels very brotherly, intimate in a non-creepy, domestic kind of way. It's relaxing and comforting, like a small functional family of their own. At least that's what Kurt thinks about it, he doesn't know if Finn just helps with the drying because he's grateful for Kurt cooking said meal.

While they are at it, Sebastian disappears somewhere in the house without so much as a word. Kurt tries to concentrate on soapsuds and water, but the question of what Sebastian is up to right now keeps bugging him.

Kurt doesn't think Sebastian is about to steal their family jewellery (they don't even have any to start with) and hoof it, leaving a mocking smiley face drawn on a mirror with a lipstick. Well, he's almost sure this is not what's going to happen. He pleaded to his dad to trust his judgment, but the truth is he doesn't have any judgment concerning Sebastian at all. He knows Sebastian the invincible criminal douchebag, but he doesn't know the desperate Sebastian.

What if Sebastian will really maim or kill him and Finn while they sleep? Kurt doubts that; if Sebastian appeared to possess nothing more than a cartoonish dark villainous heart, Karofsky's attempted suicide showed otherwise. But now that he's homeless and helpless, will he even care to demonstrate his human part? Kurt is ready to bet the whole staying at Kurt's house thing is humiliating for Sebastian and reminds him every second that he's such an obnoxious jerk that he doesn't have anyone else to turn to.

Kurt shakes his head, ignoring a questioning look from Finn. He wills himself to stop thinking in circles because even if Sebastian is a dangerous burden, Kurt took this burden upon his shoulders all out of his own volition. It's not like anyone pressured him into it or even gave him the idea.

"Will he stay with us for long?" Finn asks, bringing Kurt out of his reverie.

"Who, Sebastian? I don't know. Maybe. It's, um, unclear. Why do you ask? Are you uncomfortable?"

"Nah, I'm cool with it." Finn shrugs. "No one deserves to be thrown out of their home 'cause they are gay. I just, you know, wonder. If he's with us for long, we'll have to tell the others. You know, the Glee Club. And you will have to tell Blaine that you've got a live-in gay dude now."

"We will tell them but in the end it's none of their business who is welcome in our house and who isn't," Kurt states firmly, even though the thought of the righteous fit that Rachel will have at the news, or Mercedes' indignant retort, or Puck saying 'sucks to be him that he's a tramp now but what the hell does it have to do with us?' makes him mentally cringe. And he doesn't even want to ask Finn what he meant by 'live-in gay dude'.

Although Kurt privately thinks it may affect them; not because Sebastian's gay but because he's Sebastian. But, Kurt realizes, it can't _not _affect him and Blaine, this is, after all, Sebastian we're talking about.

It looks like every minute Sebastian spends here he creates more and more complications in Kurt's life, just by his presence; Kurt imagines the waves of troubles covering every sphere of his life and blurring everything that was crystal clear and neat before.

He really didn't think it through before offering Sebastian to stay. Well, he didn't really have time to.

Anyway, it's too late now. The only thing he can do now is look after Sebastian for the time being and hope to manage some damage control afterwards.

He turns off the faucet, takes off his rubber gloves, thanks Finn for the help with a nod, and goes off to look for Sebastian.

* * *

Sebastian is not looking for jewellery or anything; Kurt finds him in the living room studying the photos on the walls. A while ago Carole and Dad spent a couple of weeks sorting all Hummel and Hudson photos there were and arranging them together.

Kurt helped by saying things like "God, Dad, not that one, I look awful in it!"

and "Oh my gosh, that's you and me having a tea party when I was five, it's mortifying… wait, don't put it away, I want it to be on the wall."

Finn just appreciated everything with unabashed puppy dog-like enthusiasm.

Kurt stops in the center of the living room and just watches Sebastian – who chooses to ignore Kurt in favor of looking at the photos.

Sebastian's face is an emotionless mask; how he can pull it off with his generally extremely expressive meerkat-ish face, Kurt will never know.

"See something you like?" Kurt says, and immediately curses himself for the utter idiocy of saying _anything_ just to break the silence.

"Not particularly," Sebastian says, quite serious, and finally turns to face Kurt. "The very idea of walls covered in family photos is so goddamn cheesy."

"We like it." Kurt shrugs, not really understanding why he feels the need to defend his family's choice of living room decorations to Sebastian. "It's memory. Like, milestones."

"Still so Pleasantville-style," Sebastian chuckles. "I guess I wouldn't know about milestones, though. Never had many photos of me taken anyway. Is that a tea party? How old are you here?"

"Five," Kurt mumbles, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

He doesn't care what Sebastian thinks of him, Sebastian has already been thinking the worst of him since the day they met anyway, but Kurt still feels his cheeks heating unpleasantly.

"I loved it, and Dad went with it 'cause it was what I loved. Aunt Mildred thought it was adorable and snapped a picture."

"Well, it _is_ adorable." Sebastian says it with a straight face, but there's something very much like gentle teasing in his voice.

Kurt doesn't know what to say to that or even how to take it. Is he misreading it and being mocked? Sebastian is one big mess of mixed signals to him. So he changes the subject:

"I've got to my homework now, and Finn too. Do you want to do something in the meantime? You don't have homework, so… would you like to watch TV? Or some movie? We've got lots of DVDs."

Sebastian shuts down in an instant; Kurt literally sees his amused look hardening.

Way to go Hummel, Kurt mentally slaps himself, not only does he have no homework, he doesn't even have a school anymore.

"Can I read something instead?"

"Yeah," says Kurt, a little surprised. He never pegged Sebastian as a bookworm, but, well, why not, actually?

"There are books in almost every room here. Here we have mostly children's books which I've grown out of and which Dad doesn't know what to do with. Also there are the classic mysteries, lyou know like Agatha Christie; or espionage thrillers like Robert Ludlum, if you like those authors. And I have some science fiction. I love Heinlein."

Sebastian gives him an incredulous look.

"Finn has comics only, to be honest, but his collection is really, really wide, and, well, The Watchmen graphic novel is far superior to the trainwreck of a movie. And I've got lots of the classics in my basement, plus all kinds of stuff on music and musicals."

"Do you have _Stranger in a Strange Land_?" Sebastian asks.

"Yeah, of course. Let's go, then? I'll find it for you right away."

Sebastian nods and follows Kurt.

Down in the basement Kurt quickly finds a worn-out copy of his, actually, favorite book (if you don't count the illustrated biography of Barbra Streisand) and hands it over to Sebastian before taking his History textbook and sitting down on his bed. Sebastian glances at Kurt and then at the old armchair in the corner; Kurt hesitates for a second and then nods. Perhaps if Sebastian is here, practically in front of Kurt all the time, it'd be easier to study not thinking what Sebastian might be up to at the moment.

Sebastian is behaving. For all of seven minutes.

"Hey, Hummel," Sebastian says, distracting Kurt from the book. "Why do you keep a whole trunk of wedding magazines under your bed? And the collection of tiaras – do you seriously wear them at school?"

"What?" Kurt spluttered, but he's more shocked than indignant right now. "How the hell… Oh god, did you go through my things?"

Sebastian shrugs as if what he did is totally normal and he does it all the time. Well, for all Kurt knows, he might.

"I woke up, and you were apparently busy. And I was curious."

"What the hell!" Kurt throws the textbook on the bed beside him, homework entirely forgotten. "Do you think it's alright or are you just winding me up? Fuck, Sebastian, it's disgusting! Disgusting, and super-creepy, and just… argh."

Kurt shuts his eyes tightly and reminds himself to breathe. In, out, steady. God, this arrogant ungrateful jerk has no clue what privacy is…

"Do you really think it's okay? Do you?" he opens his eyes to glare at Sebastian heavily. He'll need to wash all of his clothes now. He is positively revolted, thinking that while he was making fucking dinner for this asshole, said asshole was rooting through his drawers, in his wardrobe, under the bed. God, what it he spit into the jars with Kurt's favorite skin care products? What if he did something worse than spit?

Kurt has to almost physically stop himself from thinking about it, otherwise he's in a danger of hyperventilating.

He's overreacting anyway. His suspicions are too hysterical to be true, and he tries to pill himself back together.

Sebastian doesn't say anything for a while. Kurt rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to regain some semblance of balance.

"I didn't know you'd be getting your knickers in a twist over it."

If Kurt didn't know better, he'd think he'd caught the hint of a carefully masked apology somewhere in there. On second thought, no. It's Sebastian, after all.

"Are you going to kick me out now?"

"Is that what you did it for?" Kurt snaps.

"It's sick. And you're really screwed up if you did it to make me kick you out. If you don't want to be here that much, you could've just walked out the front door.

"Jesus, no, I'm not kicking you out just because you're twisted in the head and you're a creepy asshole. I offered you to stay already knowing all that, you know."

That's even better than hypothetical kicking out somehow. Sebastian winces at these words and lowers his head a bit as if he's actually chastened by what Kurt is saying.

Kurt suddenly feels very tired again. And also, for some reason, guilty. He shouldn't feel things like that, for Christ's sake, he's the one whose privacy was invaded.

"Just, just… go upstairs, please. Stay in the living room. In case you really need it spelled out: don't touch anything there. Just sit on the couch and read. God, I feel so violated right now. Go upstairs, Sebastian. Please."

Sebastian gets up and walks out of the basement without saying anything, and leaving Kurt in the dark as to his real intentions.

Did he do it to rile Kurt up for the fun of it? Did he do it to make Kurt kick him out (which doesn't make any sense at all, but not many things do when it comes to Sebastian) right now? Did he honestly think it was okay and just wanted to satisfy his curiosity about what it is that makes Kurt tick?

Kurt sighs deeply and hops off the bed. To hell with the homework, he has more pressing matters at hand. And he spends the next two and a half hour stuffing the washing machine with most of his clothes, all this time feeling the invisible Sebastian's touch on them, warm, curious, alien.

It creeps the hell out of Kurt, and makes his cheeks burn with something he decides to call humiliation for the lack of a better word. He can't stop imagining Sebastian looking through his shirts and skinny jeans and scarves of all colors, touching his cashmere sweaters with his fingers, probably liking the feel of the fabric but scowling at how 'girly' they are, assessing with lazy condescending looks Kurt's tie collection and his sequined jackets.

Oh God. Kurt splashes his face with cold water while the machine purrs on and on.

Some of his clothes are dry-clean only, and some of them he can wash by hands in tepid water. Then he'll have to find some space to hang them and let them dry. (Can he find enough suitable space without the danger of Sebastian getting goddamn _curious_ again and laying his hands on Kurt's things?) And then he'll have to iron them all. It's going to be a real pain in the ass.

Kurt remembers that, currently, Sebastian is wearing his underwear and socks. And he'll need a change tomorrow because one pair really isn't enough from the point of view of hygiene. Kurt groans quietly in frustration and gets back to his History textbook in a desperate hope that this will provide some distraction for him from this nightmare.

It doesn't, not really; but Kurt ends up with his History assignment done, so there's a tiny positive to the situation.

Sebastian doesn't show up the whole time, and Kurt can't help but wonder what he's doing now. Is he reading as he's been told or is he pulling more bullshit to laugh at Kurt's outrage later? Maybe it was the wrong decision to send him upstairs all on his own, without even Finn to look after him. But Kurt just really wanted to be left alone to deal with this all.

Unable to bear it any further but honestly not knowing why he even bothers, Kurt scrambles out of the pillow nest he made to comfort himself and goes looking for Sebastian.

* * *

Sebastian is where he's supposed to be: on the couch in the leaving room, sitting there cross-legged with the book on his lap. From the amount of the pages already read Kurt draws a conclusion that Sebastian has indeed been reading all this time. The room looks pretty much the same way Kurt saw it last a few hours ago, and Sebastian, with his lightly tanned skin and his brown hair, mussed after sleeping with it still wet, looks oddly fitting next to the beige-colored walls and the dark green upholstery of the couch. Trust Sebastian to be pleasing aesthetically and to be endlessly awful in all the other respects.

Having heard Kurt's footsteps, Sebastian lifts his head. He looks at Kurt with his lips slightly parted as though he wants to say something, but no words are forthcoming so Kurt has to take the task upon himself.

"Look, I don't pretend to know what was going on in your head while you were rooting through my things," he says. "And, actually, I'm not sure I even want to know. But I'm asking you not to do this any more. Are we clear on that?"

He waits until Sebastian considers his words and nods before continuing:

"It's okay to take books, and DVDs, and CDs, and to use the TV and the stereo system if you keep the sound decently low, and to raid the kitchen for food if you're hungry.

"But personal belongings – mine, and Finn's, and our parents' – they are off limits, do you understand? If you're curious – let's go with the idea that that was the real reason, for the sake of my sanity – then you have to ask for permission. Oh, and if you do go to the kitchen, clean it after yourself. Clear?"

"Perfectly so," Sebastian says, his face inscrutable. "I, um…"

"You what?"

"I apologize for making you… uncomfortable. I didn't think it was such a big deal."

Kurt can only gape at Sebastian, feeling a stupid urge to ask if he's heard him right.

"Oh," he says. "Well, then, apology accepted. I guess." Kurt's not even sure if that tentative acceptance is actually true.

Sebastian smiles at Kurt. This time it's a real smile, small, and tight, and unsure but it is a smile, not a dubious tilt of lips. Kurt feels a sudden unwanted urge to smile back, very much like the urge to vomit after eating the mystery meat in the school cafeteria, and resolutely suppresses it.

"So, I take it, you aren't mad at me now?"

"I didn't say that," Kurt warns. "Why?"

"Because I still want to know if you wear your tiaras at school. And why you keep all those magazines. I've been thinking about it for freaking hours, and it's driving me nuts."

"No way," Kurt mutters, "nothing can drive you nuts 'cause you're already as mad as a hatter. Are you serious?"

"I am, actually." Sebastian closes the book, leaving his finger between the pages he's reading, and looks at Kurt expectantly.

"Fine." Kurt rolls his eyes and flops down on the couch beside Sebastian. "If you insist."

"I do." Sebastian chuckles but it doesn't sound mocking.

"I don't wear my tiaras to school. They are not really my style – don't look at me so incredulously – but I love them. So I sometimes wear them when I and the girls from the Glee club have a makeover night. And weddings are cool, period. I planned my father and Finn's mother's wedding all on my own, and I loved it."

"You're something with a cherry on top, Hummel." Sebastian smiles again, unrestrained this time, amused without the mocking undertones Kurt's used to seeing in his smiles.

"Call me Kurt," he says. "Since you're walking around in my briefs, we can address each other less formally, you know. And I'm calling you by your given name anyway."

"Fine… Kurrrrt." Sebastian drawls the name on his tongue as if tasting it and training his lips to pronounce it from now on instead of Kurt's surname. "So, what do we do now?"

"Said the spider to the fly," Kurt mutters under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. Right now… what time is it?"

"The clock on the wall opposite to you says it's nearing eleven," Sebastian says, and there it is, the habitual mockery and the beginnings of an insult.

"We can brush our teeth and go to sleep, then."

"Really? Sleep? It's way too early for that, if you ask me."

"Fortunately, I'm not asking you. And don't tell me you aren't tired. You'd better be rested for tomorrow when my father comes back."

"You said he's fine with the idea of me here."

"He is. He gets the homophobic shit thing. But it doesn't mean he trusts you."

"If he doesn't trust me, why did he agree that I stay here?"

"Because I asked him to."

Kurt gets up and motions for Sebastian to follow.

"I think there were some spare toothbrushes in the bathroom here upstairs. If there aren't don't even think of using mine. And I'm going to find you some pajamas."

"I sleep naked, actually."

"Hell to the no," Kurt says instanly. "Finn watches the morning TV in the living-room on Sundays. If he walks in on you naked, he'll be scarred for life, and guess who'll never hear the end of it? Me."

"You wound me, Kur-rt, I'm obviously gorgeous, how could the sight of me scar your poor brother?" Sebastian smirks. This name-drawling is staring to get on Kurt's nerves.

"You're not sleeping naked, and that's that," Kurt puts his foot down on this one. He doesn't need Finn in shock; and, come to think of it, he's really not eager about getting his own eyeful of naked Sebastian. He's had enough stress this week as it is, thank you very much. "And stop doing this 'rrr' thing with my name, or I'll smack you."

"Somehow you don't strike me as someone with a particularly good right hook, Kurrrrt, so I think I prefer to go on with this, as you so elegantly put it, 'rrr' thing."

"Don't try my patience, _Smythe_," Kurt says, practically shoving a smirking Sebastian into the bathroom. He can't believe he actually wanted the bastard to smile ten minutes ago, because right now he'd like nothing better than wiping that smirk off Sebastian's face. Preferably with a good, solid right hook.

"Brush your teeth before they turn black because of all the dirty mean things you're saying all the time. I bet you're even muttering insults and swearwords in your sleep."

"You can come to the living room at night to listen," Sebastian suggests, looking positively smug. "You might be able to learn lots of new clever words, you know, it's your once-in-a-lifetime chance at self-education."

"God, you're really an ass," Kurt says, 'cause he's too tired to come up with a witty retort. And he doesn't have to engage into a battle of insults with Sebastian if he doesn't want to, that's for sure. "Brush your teeth, it's a much more sensible thing to do with your mouth than let it talk."

With that, Kurt retreats to find the pajamas and something else he needs to give to Sebastian. Also, he needs to get a start at his nightly skin care routine if he wants to be done with it before midnight.

When he's back, Sebastian's already sitting on the couch, socks off but still fully clad otherwise. He smells strongly like mint toothpaste and apple-flavoured soap that Kurt has bought himself earlier this week, and looks very young and very tired.

"Here," Kurt says, putting the pyjamas next to Sebastian and dropping the other thing into his lap. "Apply it twice a day to your bruises. It'll get better."

He learned that arnica is the best thing to deal with bruises while he was in the Cheerios; no bully had ever left so many marks on his body as Coach Sylvester's exhausting, excruciating Cheerios practices.

Sebastian takes the pack with arnica cautiously and studies it with his eyes narrowed.

"Don't be afraid, it doesn't bite, and it's not going to explode." Kurt yawns, covering his mouth with one hand. "Good night, Sebastian."

"Night, Kurt," Sebastian says quietly as Kurt leaves the room not really waiting for an answer.

Kurt smiles for no apparent reason all the way down to his basement; but once there, he starts working on his skin in earnest.

He feels that he needs to be rested for tomorrow, too.


End file.
